%^H^'H^!H^%^H^%^H^%^ 


SHOULD 

AULD    ACQUAINTANCE 

BE  FORGOT? 


£ 


^%^%^%^H^%^%^%^%^%. 


•'    '"  if  .4X1    1 

'■••••. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign 


http://www.archive.org/details/shouldauldacquaiOOgles 


SHOULD 

AULD  ACQUAINTANCE 

BE  FORGOT? 


SHOULD 

AULD  ACQUAINTANCE 

BE  FORGOT? 


FOR   COMMERCIAL   CLUB 
MEMBERS    ONLY 


PRINTED,   NOT   PUBLISHED 

1924 


Kind  Trader; 

I  feel  that  you  will  have  earned  the  title  if  you 
read  these  pages  through  to  the  end.  They  were 
written  for  my  own  diversion,  on  rainy  days,  last 
August  and  September.  On  reading  them  now  I 
find  that  often  I  have  used  the  expressions  of 
smiling  eyes,  genial,  open  countenance,  friendly 
manners,  and  the  like.  These  repetitions  transgress 
good  literary  form,  I  know,  but  I  wouldn't  take 
them  back;  they  are  true  where  written,  and  might 
justly  have  been  written  oftener.  These  attributes 
indicate  humor,  and  humor  is  a  saving  grace  to  keep 
men  from  sinning  against  convention,  and  other  sins, 
and  to  smooth  the  rough  places  of  life.  Such  attri- 
butes make  for  friendship,  and  the  men  who  have 
them  are  our  friends. 

So  forget  my  lapses  from  literary  good  manners, 
and  accept  this  little  book  as  a  messenger  bearing 
gifts  of  good  will,  and  in  lieu  of  a  Christmas  card, 
from 

Yours  very  sincerely, 

John  J.  Glessner. 


SOME  FRIENDS  OF  MINE 

AMONG   THE   EARLIER    MEMBERS 

OF  THE 

COMMERCIAL   CLUB 

A  LL  were  friends;  of  enemies  there  were  none, 
I  %  yet  some  were  friendlier  than  others,  some 
JL  JL  alas  were  old  when  I  was  young,  and  some 
had  gone  to  their  reward  before  I  became  a  member. 
Most  of  them  have  passed  away  now,  each  leaving 
as  much  void  as  humanity  does  when  it  is  done. 
These  were  doing  men:  of  these  I  would  speak.  I 
hold  them  in  honored  memory,  and  would  rejoice 
to  call  them  back  for  an  hour  to  talk  over  the 
changes  since  their  day. 

I  would  not  make  an  exhaustive  study  or  give  an 
estimate  of  each  man,  or  tell  of  his  important  work 
— rather  would  I  recall  some  pleasing  incidents, 
some  personal  traits  or  characteristics  that  may 
bring  them  to  mind  with  those  who  knew  them,  or 
knew  of  them.  Lowell  has  a  pretty  couplet  of  apol- 
ogy, suited  to  this  time  and  place: 

So  you'll  excuse  me  if  I'm  sometimes  fain 

To  tie  the  Past's  warm  night-cap  o'er  my  brain. 

So  far  from  being  sad  over  my  age  I  glory  in  it,  and 
in  the  comforting  philosophy  that  a  man  never  knows 

[7] 


much  until  he  is  old — and  then  he  is  too  discreet  to  tell 
it.  Young  men,  of  course,  haven't  the  same  vantage 
ground  for  review  as  have  their  elders.  To  the 
younger  generation  all  those  with  more  years  than 
their  own  seem  old,  and  though  admitting  that  I 
know  less  now  than  I  did  in  my  own  conceit  at 
twenty,  I  can  look  back  with  pleasure  over  the  past 
fifty  years  in  Chicago  and  realize  how  fortunate  I 
have  been  in  friends,  and  rejoice  in  that  fortune. 

The  Commercial  Club  was  formed  in  1877,  at  tne 
beginning  of  the  year,  to  promote  better  acquaint- 
ance and  more  intimate  friendships  and  "a  friendly 
exchange  of  views"  among  the  members.  This  did 
not  mean  that  we  in  the  chief  city  of  the  Middle 
West  were  a  set  of  partly  civilized  barbarians  in 
trade,  but  only  that  up  to  that  time  there  was  here 
no  organized  association  of  business  men  as  such, 
and  it  was  quite  possible  for  one  not  to  know  his 
neighbor's  views  on  questions  of  mutual  interest. 
Of  course  there  were  ameliorative  societies  before 
the  Commercial  Club — charities,  lodges  of  Masons, 
Odd-Fellows,  luncheon  and  social  and  literary  and 
artistic  and  practical  clubs,  etc.  The  Board  of 
Trade  provided  a  meeting  place  for  one  class  of 
business,  but  a  club  of  merchants  and  bankers, 
manufacturers  and  railroad  officials,  and  including 
all  lines  of  trade,  was  novel.  In  essentials  it  has  re- 
mained unchanged  in  all  these  years.  It  was  to  be  a 
picked  body  of  men,  picked  for  ability,  integrity, 
enterprise,  public  spirit.  It  was  to  be  a  representa- 
tive body,  with  only  one  or  two  men  in  the  member- 

[  8  ] 


ship  from  each  line  of  trade.  The  character  of  every 
candidate  for  admission  was  scrutinized  most  care- 
fully; any  shortcoming  in  any  of  these  qualifica- 
tions would  prevent  election,  and  as  this  rule  has 
been  adhered  to  strictly,  there  have  been  no  scan- 
dals connected  with  the  Club  or  its  members  in  its 
nearly  half  century  of  existence. 

Just  how  my  election  came  about,  or  who  were 
my  proposers,  I  know  not,  but  I  must  have  had 
partial  friends.  It  is  in  recognition  of  this  that  I  am 
minded  to  set  down  some  recollections  of  them  and 
of  that  time,  and  disregarding  dates  and  alphabeti- 
cal sequence,  would  begin  with 

George  Clinton  Clarke,  who  was  the  first  Secre- 
tary of  the  Club,  an  insurance  man,  and  the  Club 
was  fortunate  to  have  such  a  secretary.  He  was  a 
gentleman  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  Club's  welfare,  in  making  it  and  keep- 
ing it  dignified  and  useful  and  important — a  vehicle 
for  making  friendships  among  Chicago  men  of  af- 
fairs, and  keeping  them  friendly,  of  cultivating 
teamwork,  a  spirit  of  pride  in  the  town  and  in  the 
success  of  other  men,  something  to  give  us  thoughts 
beyond  our  selfish  selves;  and  incidentally  insisting 
that  we  don  evening  clothes  in  the  evening,  a  cus- 
tom not  always  honored  in  the  observance.  As  a 
citizen  he  was  classed  "a  man  of  clean  hands  and  a 
clean  conscience. " 

That  didn't  necessarily  belong  to  the  insurance 
business,  nor  was  it  confined  to  it,  but  John  Janes, 
the  second  Secretary,  also  an  insurance  man,  had 

[9] 


the  same  spirit,  the  same  ambitions,  and  carried  the 
Club  along  in  the  same  manner,  and  was  equally- 
popular  and  influential  with  all  the  members, 
equally  forceful,  equally  devoted,  equally  fine.  I 
am  proud  to  recall  the  warm  friendship  that  was 
mine  with  them.  Janes'  deafness  seemed  to  add  to 
our  affection  for  him. 

Clarke  was  Secretary  for  ten  years.  Janes  suc- 
ceeded to  the  Secretary's  office  at  Clarke's  untimely 
death,  and  continued  for  fourteen  years,  until  he 
himself  was  taken  away  in  August,  1901.  To  these 
continuing  Secretaries  much  credit  is  due  for  keep- 
ing the  Club  true  to  its  original  ideals. 

Henry  B.  (Harry)  Macfarland,  boot  and  shoe 
manufacturer  and  merchant,  was  Treasurer  of  the 
Club  for  ten  years,  1 892-1 901,  inclusive.  Along 
with  George  Clarke  and  John  Janes,  he  was  re- 
sponsible in  large  measure  for  the  success  of  the 
Club  and  the  excellence  of  its  dinners  and  the  ab- 
sence of  friction.  By  the  mutabilities  of  trade  and 
the  deaths  of  partners,  he  abandoned  the  shoe  busi- 
ness and  became  a  law  publisher.  His  death  came 
in  1920.  Every  man  who  knew  him  deplored  his 
passing. 

The  characters  and  unselfish  devotion  of  these 
men  were  potent  factors  in  making  the  Club  what 
it  was  then  and  is  now.  Its  interests  were  their  in- 
terests, and  they  were  not  only  its  most  valued 
members,  but  its  most  beloved.  In  addition  to  their 
personality,  it  was  the  sum  of  those  elements  repre- 
sented by  that  much  overworked  word  "Service," 

[  10] 


plus  untiring  industry  and  courtesy,  that  made 
them  so  important  and  endeared  them  so  much  to 
us  all.  They  insisted  upon  dignified  formalities  in 
dress  and  conversation  and  behavior,  and  so  culti- 
vated gentle  manners.  In  those  days  they  spent 
much  time  before  the  monthly  dinners,  aided  by  a 
special  committee  for  each  occasion,  in  so  seating 
the  members  at  table  as  to  please  each  most.  Many 
a  time  have  I  sat  with  Janes  for  hours  in  afternoon 
or  evening  preparing  table  diagrams,  my  part  being 
mostly  to  give  encouragement  and  approval. 

Chicago  was  ripe  for  the  spirit  that  made  the 
Commercial  Club.  Early  Chicago,  like  other  set- 
tlements, found  each  man  intent  on  his  own  prob- 
lems, and  perhaps  a  little  ruthless  in  striving  for  his 
individual  success,  without  much  thought  for  how 
that  might  affect  his  neighbor,  though  of  course  at 
no  time  would  any  lapse  from  good  faith  have  been 
tolerated.  This  Club  and  these  men  directing  it 
were  powerful  in  raising  and  keeping  high  the 
standards  of  commercial  integrity. 

From  insurance  ranks  came  other  highly  appre- 
ciated men.  Eugene  Cary,  one  of  the  youngest  men 
to  sit  upon  the  woolsack,  was  County  Judge  in 
Sheboygan,  Wis.,  when  only  twenty-two  years  old. 
Later  he  came  to  Chicago  as  General  Western  Man- 
ager of  the  German-American  Insurance  Company. 
He  was  President  of  the  Club  in  1898  and  was  suc- 
ceeded in  membership  by  John  W.  Cofran,  another 
insurance  man;  and  later,  first  in  the  Merchants 
Club   and   afterwards   in   the   Commercial,   came 

[  "  ] 


Charles  D.  Norton,  practical,  energetic,  enthusias- 
tic, genial,  generous,  President  of  the  Merchants 
Club  in  1906  and  giving  of  himself  freely  for  the 
City  Plan  and  other  good  works  here,  until  called  to 
Washington  by  President  Taft,  and  afterwards  to 
New  York.  Our  Club  may  well  be  proud  of  its  in- 
surance members,  past  and  present.  Those  of  the 
early  day  have  all  passed  from  earth  now,  and  most 
of  them  in  the  fullness  of  their  powers. 

Solomon  Albert  Smith  heads  the  Necrology  list. 
His  death  was  in  November,  1879,  when  the  Club 
was  very  young.  In  life  he  was  tall,  good  looking,  a 
ready  and  positive  man,  a  great  banker  for  his  day, 
a  great  favorite  too,  called  affectionately  by  his 
associates,  Sol  Smith.  His  residence  was  at  414 
Wabash  Avenue.  His  bank  had  the  long  and  honored 
name  of  The  Merchants  Savings  Loan  &  Trust 
Company,  now  Illinois  Merchants  Trust  Company, 
and  has  at  all  times  been  an  important  financial  in- 
stitution. Mr.  Smith  has  the  posthumous  distinc- 
tion of  being  the  only  man  whose  son  and  two  of  his 
grandsons  became  members  of  the  Club.  On  an 
arithmetical  progression  basis  there  should  be  four 
great-grandsons  chosen  to  membership,  eight  great- 
great-grandsons,  etc. 

Edward  Swan  Stickney,  another  able  banker,  an 
art  connoisseur  as  well,  a  highly  cultivated  man, 
dying  the  next  year,  left  a  valuable  collection  of 
paintings  that  later  went  to  the  Art  Institute  and 
are  now  housed  there  in  a  beautiful  gallery  of  their 
own,  under  the  name  of  the  Stickney  Collection. 

[  12  ] 


James  Monroe  Walker,  astute  lawyer  and  execu- 
tive, a  man  of  large  affairs,  a  wise  counsellor; 

Richard  C.  Meldrum,  railroad  executive,  well  in- 
formed and  expert  in  his  profession; 

George  Armour,  railroad  builder,  a  man  of  wide 
vision,  sound  judgment,  largely  responsible  for  the 
old  Galena  &  Chicago,  now  Chicago  &  North- 
western Railway — all  passed  in  the  next  year. 

John  Clark  Coonley,  a  magnificent  figure  of  a 
man,  fine  in  size  and  form  and  feature,  a  manufac- 
turer of  great  force  and  judgment,  the  most  genial 
of  companions,  died  in  1882. 

Charles  Palmer  Kellogg,  the  leading  merchant  in 
hats  and  caps,  was  taken  before  he  had  had  oppor- 
tunity to  make  deep  impression  in  the  Club. 

These  had  passed  before  I  was  received  into 
membership.  I  knew  them  all,  some  intimately, 
and  like  all  other  members  mourned  their  deaths. 
Each  man  had  some  hobby  outside  his  business, 
unless  perhaps  it  was  Solomon  Smith,  who  was 
banker  first  and  always. 

In  those  days,  when  so  many  of  us  were  young 
who  now  are  old,  deaths  in  the  membership  did  not 
come  as  frequently  as  in  later  years,  and  perhaps 
made  a  deeper  impression.  The  next  man  to  go, 
and  that  was  two  years  after  the  last  death,  was 
Anson  Stager,  head  of  the  Western  Union  Tele- 
graph Company — courteous,  kindly,  forceful,  a 
good  organizer,  who  was  succeeded  in  his  high  busi- 
ness connection,  after  an  interval,  by  a  fellow-mem- 
ber of  our  Club — Col.  Robert  C.  Clowry,  but  this 

[  13 1 


succession  took  the  successor  from  us  to  the  wider 
field  of  New  York.  Colonel  Clowry  still  has  part  in 
the  councils  of  the  Telegraph  Company,  though  not 
so  active  a  part,  and  rarely  comes  to  Chicago  to  at- 
tend a  meeting  of  the  Club. 

In  that  same  year  of  1885  we  mourned  the  loss  of 
John  W.  McGenniss,  stone  merchant,  a  man  of  the 
highest  character  and  great  ability  and  many 
friends,  but  I  knew  him  too  slightly  to  properly  ap- 
praise him. 

And  in  the  next  ten  years  deaths  came  in  cycles 
of  two  years,  with  sometimes  two  close  together — 
George  Clarke  and  Martin  Ryerson  in  1887;  John 
Crerar  in  1889;  Gen.  William  Strong  in  1891;  Uri 
Balcom  in  1 893 ;  John  B.  Drake  in  1 895 ;  Charles  M. 
Henderson  and  Edson  Keith  in  1896;  James  W. 
Oakley  and  Henry  Stone  and  George  Pullman  in 
1897;  Louis  Wampold  and  Henry  King  and  John 
DeKoven  and  W.  C.  D.  Grannis  in  1898;  Robert 
Waller  and  George  Meeker  in  1899;  and  Charles 
Fargo  in  1900,  the  last  year  of  the  century. 

Since  the  opening  of  the  twentieth  century  there 
has  been  a  long  list  of  departing  members. 

Manners  and  customs  and  adornments  differed 
somewhat  then  from  now.  More  were  bearded 
then.  Of  the  first  eighty  members  six  wore  full 
beards,  twenty  sported  both  beards  and  mous- 
taches, twenty-eight  had  moustaches  alone,  eleven 
had  side  whiskers,  three  goatees  only,  eight  goatees 
and  moustaches,  four  were  barefaced.  Some  were 
more  heavily  bearded  than  others — bearded  like  a 

[  Hi 


pard.  I  don't  really  know  what  a  pard  was  or  is, 
nor  how  he  was  bearded,  but  that  is  the  way  these 
were.  Edson  Keith's  full  dark  beard,  John  Crerar's 
flowing  side  whiskers,  George  Pullman's  chin  whis- 
kers, General  Strong's  pointed  goatee — there  were 
all  varieties,  and  many  shades  of  color. 

In  1882  the  Club  established  a  Manual  Training 
School  at  Michigan  Avenue  and  Twelfth  Street, 
and  expended  considerable  money  in  buildings  and 
equipment,  and  a  staff  of  instructors.  We  thought 
the  boys  would  learn  even  more  rapidly  from  books 
than  in  the  regular  public  schools,  and  at  the  same 
time  gain  much  practically  in  mechanical  arts — and 
they  did.  Marshall  Field  took  a  deep  interest  in 
this,  and  so  did  Eliphalet  Blatchford,  and  William 
Fuller  and  Marvin  Hughitt.  At  one  Commence- 
ment a  young  Scandinavian  graduated  with  such 
honors  that  Mr.  Hughitt  made  him  Inspector  of 
Cars  on  C.  &  N.  W.  Ry,  with  a  considerable  force 
of  men  under  him,  and  he  traveled  back  and  forth 
over  the  road  in  his  special  car.  Many  youths  went 
through  this  school  to  their  advantage.  About  once 
in  each  year  there  was  an  exhibit  at  a  dinner  of 
the  Commercial  Club  at  Grand  Pacific  Hotel,  of 
the  work  done  by  these  youngsters.  After  a  time 
the  school  was  turned  over  to  the  University  of 
Chicago  in  spite  of  the  intricacies  and  embarrass- 
ments of  the  law,  but  it  took  the  patience  and 
wisdom  of  Blatchford  and  Fuller  to  accomplish 
this.    Mine  was  less  than  theirs.    Blatchford  was 

[  15 1 


regular  in  attendance  and  conscientious  in  every- 
thing. 

At  its  origin  I  think  the  plan  of  the  Commercial 
Club  was  not  so  much  to  do  actual  work  as  that  it 
should  afford  opportunity  to  discuss  matters  of  in- 
terest, form  conclusions  and  perhaps  make  plans, 
and  to  induce  other  organizations  to  do  the  real 
work.  Chief  of  these  was  the  Citizens  Associa- 
tion, which  had  been  formed  three  years  earlier  and 
included  many  of  the  men  who  afterwards  made 
the  Commercial  Club. 

At  one  time  various  questions  were  up  for  discus- 
sion by  the  Commercial  Club  just  before  the  spring 
election,  and  a  meeting  of  the  Citizens  Association 
was  called,  at  which  one  candidate  for  mayor  was 
present.  There  was  some  plain  talking  of  the  short- 
comings of  the  administration,  at  which  the  candi- 
date took  offense,  said  he  would  not  stay  there  to 
be  questioned,  and  started  to  leave,  whereupon 
Marshall  Field  backed  up  against  the  door  with  the 
remark — "Mr.  Mayor,  you  are  seeking  re-election 
to  execute  the  wishes  of  the  citizens  of  Chicago. 
These  are  proper  questions,  and  you  are  not  going 
out  of  this  room  until  you  tell  us  what  your  policies 
are  regarding  them." 

If  the  Citizens  Association  was  not  the  child  of 
Franklin  MacVeagh,  he  was  at  least  its  foster  fa- 
ther, and  one  of  its  earliest  presidents  and  staunch- 
est  supporters.  It  may  have  been  through  his  advo- 
cacy that  the  Commercial  Club  devoted  itself,  as 

[  16] 


I  have  said,  to  the  discussion  of  affairs  and  forma- 
tion of  ideas  that  were  carried  out  by  the  Citizens 
Association  and  other  similar  bodies. 

MacVeagh  was  christened  "the  scholar  in  poli- 
tics"— well  born,  well  read,  highly  cultivated,  the 
soul  of  honor.  He  made  a  nearly  successful  cam- 
paign for  the  senatorship  in  Illinois,  and  later  did 
admirable  service  as  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  in 
President  Taft's  Cabinet.  I  think,  however,  that 
Mr.  MacVeagh  does  not  belong  in  this  category  of 
remembrance,  since  I  rejoice  still  to  count  him 
among  the  choicest  of  my  living  friends. 

While  living  in  West  Washington  Street  and  be- 
fore we  had  gone  to  Prairie  Avenue,  my  physician 
put  me  on  horseback,  said  that  I  must  not  drive  any 
more,  but  take  to  the  saddle  and  to  walk.  It  was 
not  a  difficult  prescription  to  follow,  except  that  to 
take  it  took  time  also.  However,  I  made  up  for 
that  by  riding  early  in  the  mornings  as  far  as  possi- 
ble. Another  rider  there  was  living  near  me,  Rich- 
ard T.  Crane.  He  rode  by  the  doctor's  decree  also, 
and  so  we  rode  together  occasionally.  He  wore  a 
high  hat  and  a  tail  coat,  while  my  coat  was  a  very 
short  sack,  the  creation  of  Edward  Ely,  that  artis- 
tic and  painstaking  haberdasher — that  was  his  high 
sounding  name  for  tailor  and  furnisher — who  had 
his  emporium  decorated  with  golden  epigrams  of 
Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  in  golden  letters  attached  to 
walls  and  stairways,  the  most  important  of  which 
as  I  remember  now  was — "Trifles  make  perfection, 
but  perfection  is  no  trifle." 

1 17  ] 


Ely  lived  in  the  next  block  to  me.  He  had  lost 
three  wives,  and  when  his  own  time  came  and  the 
eminent  Presbyterian  preacher  alluded  feelingly  to 
the  many  occasions  when  he  had  officiated  similarly 
in  that  house  in  the  then  recent  past,  and  the  choir 
followed  almost  immediately  with  "Watching  and 
Waiting  for  Thee,"  the  auditors  were  constrained 
to  keep  sober  countenances. 

During  my  administration  of  the  Citizens  Asso- 
ciation we  undertook  to  guard  the  polls  at  one  city 
election.  Ely  was  assigned  to  the  precinct  that  had 
its  polling  place  at  the  corner  of  Washington  and 
Clinton  Streets.  It  took  a  man  of  strong  courage  to 
stand  among  the  rough  characters  of  that  precinct, 
at  least  if  he  could  be  designated  a  so-called  "silk 
stocking"  kind  of  man,  but  Ely  did  it,  and  did  it  all 
day  long.  Tall,  slender,  swarthy  in  complexion  and 
somewhat  pronounced  in  clothes,  he  was  just  the 
type  of  man  those  rough-house  boys  would  choose 
to  play  a  little  rough-house  with;  but  withal  those 
boys  admire  courage  and  good  temper,  and  Ely 
stuck  it  out  gallantly  and  did  his  duty  until  polls 
closed  and  the  preliminary  count  was  made. 

Ely  was  not  a  member  of  the  Commercial  Club. 
He  was  a  real  character.  Most  of  us  patronized  him 
then.  Alas,  like  most  of  his  then  patrons  he  has 
been  sleeping  his  long  sleep  these  many  years. 

Crane  was  a  character,  too.  A  large,  impressive 
man,  strong  mentally  and  physically,  opinionated, 
which  only  means  that  he  had  his  own  opinions  and 
held  them  stoutly.  He  didn't  mince  words.  We  all 

[  18  ] 


belonged  to  the  same  Clubs  then,  as  I  have  said, 
and  other  organizations — Citizens  Association,  R. 
&  A.  Society,  Literary  Club,  Athenaeum,  with  more 
or  less  regular  meetings. 

At  this  time  there  was  in  the  main  dining  room  of 
the  Chicago  Club  what  was  dubbed  familiarly  the 
"Millionaires'  Table,,,  so-called  because  Field  and 
Pullman  and  Fairbank  and  the  Spragues  and 
Crerar  and  MacVeagh  and  some  others  always 
lunched  there.  It  was  never  my  habit  to  lunch  in 
the  middle  of  the  day,  and  if  I  had  so  lunched  my 
table  would  have  been  a  little  lower  in  the  scale,  but 
my  friends  were  at  that  upper  table.  When  I  began 
building  my  house  in  Prairie  Avenue,  George  Pull- 
man, my  neighbor  diagonally  across  the  street, 
fancied  he  wouldn't  like  it,  and  made  some  rather 
caustic  remarks.  The  others  thought  it  good  sport 
to  bait  him,  and  so  the  house  was  a  subject  of  con- 
versation daily,  until  Albert  Sprague  called  Mac- 
Veagh aside  with,  "Frank,  this  won't  do.  We  may 
stir  up  some  ugly  feeling  between  two  of  our  good 
friends. "  "All  right,  Albert.  I'll  get  Crerar  and 
General  McClurg,  and  we'll  fix  it  up  tomorrow. " 
And  the  next  day  after  Pullman  had  spoken,  Mac- 
Veagh made  some  remark  about  domestic  archi- 
tecture and  art,  followed  by  Crerar,  and  then 
McClurg  added,  "We  all  know  John  Glessner,  and 
most  of  us  know  his  architect.  I  have  confidence 
they  will  not  make  anything  objectionable;  at  any 
rate,  Til  make  no  criticism  until  the  building  is 
completed."  And  the  house  was  no  longer  the  sub- 

[  19 1 


ject  of  discussion  at  luncheon.  As  it  approached 
completion,  Mr.  Pullman  grew  to  like  it.  We  were 
always  friendly.  We  rode  horseback  together  at 
times,  as  the  same  edict  had  gone  out  for  him  that 
had  for  me,  but  we  didn't  ride  thus  often,  for  we 
both  found  that  the  backs  of  restive  horses,  while 
they  might  be  called  seats  of  the  mighty,  were  not 
seats  conducive  to  connected  conversation  either 
serious  or  beguiling. 

Mr.  Pullman  was  a  forceful  man.  He  dominated 
his  Board  of  Directors,  and  there  was  only  one 
opinion  and  one  decision  among  them — and  that 
was  Mr.  Pullman's. 

Philip  Armour  was  a  business  man  first  and  last, 
but  not  quite  all  the  time,  for  he  had  a  heart  for 
melting  charity.  Sometimes  he  relied  upon  the  R. 
&  A.  Society  in  charitable  matters,  and  he  would 
have  done  better  had  he  depended  more  upon  it,  for 
as  with  the  rest  of  us  there  were  cases  where  he  was 
deceived — one  in  particular  that  I  recall,  where  he 
had  expended  some  hundreds  of  dollars,  and  to  his 
chagrin  the  Society  showed  him  it  was  on  an  utterly 
unworthy  subject. 

One  member  we  had  of  delicate  and  sparkling 
humor,  ever  ready  with  a  kind  act  for  a  friend  and 
what  would  have  been  kind  consideration  for  a  foe 
if  he  had  had  one,  Otho  Sprague.  He  was  never  in 
robust  health  after  army  service  in  the  Civil  War, 
but  whatever  his  own  suffering,  he  was  in  cheerful 
humor  always  with  his  friends.  We  were  sitting  in 
front  of  a  blazing  fire  in  the  big  sitting  room  of  the 

[  20  ] 


Calumet  Club  one  evening  during  the  Christmas 
holidays  of  a  certain  year — Armour,  Otho  Sprague, 
John  Clark  and  some  others.  It  was  Armour's  cus- 
tom before  such  times  to  take  the  prize  beef  at  the 
Stock  Yards  cattle  shows  and  send  choice  roasts  to 
various  friends,  different  persons  for  different  years. 
I  had  just  thanked  him  for  the  roast  he  had  that 
year  sent  to  me,  when  Otho  turned  and  said — "Did 
Armour  send  you  a  roast  of  beef?  Well,  he  does  a 
great  deal  of  good  in  a  quiet  way/' 

Armour  was  a  very  early  riser,  and  went  early  to 
business.  In  my  horseback  days,  the  little  daugh- 
ter of  my  house  liked  to  ride  with  me.  We  rode 
before  breakfast,  and  many  times  as  we  started  out 
we  met  Armour  driving  to  business  behind  a  pair 
of  smart  chestnut  horses  in  a  Goddard  phaeton, 
and  the  little  girl's  remark  was,  "Mr.  Armour  will 
think  we  are  pretty  fine  folks,  out  so  early  in  the 
morning." 

To  go  back  to  Richard  Crane  and  the  meetings  of 
the  Citizens  Association,  Relief  and  Aid  Society, 
Commercial  Club,  etc.:  Crane  would,  on  occasion, 
ask  me  to  read  a  paper  of  his  at  one  of  these  meet- 
ings, and  again  would  urge  some  action  upon  me, 
and  when  I  couldn't  always  agree  with  him,  then  for 
a  time  he  wouldn't  ask  me  to  read;  but  after  a 
while  the  request  would  come  again.  It  was  said 
that  we  of  the  West  Side  drove  in  buggies,  and  in 
derision  that  we  had  three  in  a  seat.  I  think  neither 
Crane  nor  I  went  to  that  extreme.  Two  was  my 
limit,  and  he  was  too  large  to  have  more. 

[  21  ] 


Crane  was  a  great  admirer  of  John  Crerar — one 
of  the  few  men  who  could  so  organize  his  business 
that  it  could  be  carried  on  with  great  success  with 
apparently  little  of  his  own  personal  attention.  At 
any  rate  he  always  had  time  for  sociability  or  for 
any  outside  worthy  object.  His  countenance  car- 
ried assurance  of  his  unaffected  affability.  Once 
seen  one  would  ever  remember  his  characteristic 
whiskers,  his  kindly  eyes  and  winning  smile,  the 
flirt  both  instinctive  and  distinctive  that  he  gave  to 
the  lapels  of  his  coat.  He  was  a  pleasant,  agreeable 
companion,  a  devoted  friend,  and  when  he  died  left 
generous  bequests  to  the  many  worthy  causes  he 
had  supported  in  life,  and  the  remainder  of  his  large 
estate  for  the  founding  and  support  of  the  Crerar 
Library,  from  which  he  stipulated  should  forever  be 
debarred  all  nasty  French  novels. 

I  had  had,  indirectly,  a  slight  connection  with 
John  Crerar,  in  that  some  time  before  I  came  to 
Chicago  my  firm  bought  the  plow  business  at 
Yellow  Springs,  O.,  of  the  firm  to  which  Crerar 
succeeded  as  Crerar,  Adams  &  Co.,  dealing  in  rail- 
way supplies. 

Crerar  had  to  bask  in  the  happiness  of  his  friends' 
homes,  for  he  never  had  one  of  his  own.  He  never 
married,  and  for  all  the  time  I  knew  him  lived  at 
the  Grand  Pacific  Hotel,  where  he  had  but  one 
room,  and,  indeed,  gave  that  up  if  he  went  abroad 
for  any  considerable  absence.  This  hotel  was  not 
only  the  boast  of  Chicago,  but  was  the  pride  of  its 
owner,  John  B.  Drake — a  real  hotel  man,  self-made, 

[    22   ] 


who  knew  his  business  thoroughly  from  the  bottom 
up,  who  knew  what  went  on  in  every  department 
ofit. 

The  second  bachelor  member  of  the  Club  was 
Thomas  Murdoch,  grocer,  another  man  of  quick, 
sure  and  wise  decision.  Unlike  Crerar,  he  had  a 
beautiful  home,  presided  over  graciously  by  his 
two  sisters.  He  was  a  keen  sportsman  with  the  rod, 
owned  the  fishing  rights  for  miles  on  both  sides  of 
the  Canadian  river  of  York,  and  not  only  enjoyed 
this  contemplative  man's  recreation,  but  delighted 
to  take  friends,  and  some  quite  young  men  among 
them,  to  camp  or  march  or  sail  with  him.  He,  too, 
dying,  left  a  large  estate  to  charities  selected  with 
much  thought  and  care. 

William  Munro,  of  English  origin  and  accent, 
who  represented  the  Bank  of  Montreal  here,  com- 
pleted the  triumvirate  of  genial  bachelors.  The 
custom  of  two  or  three  Board  of  Trade  men  to 
tether  their  horses  for  hours  at  a  time  in  front  of  his 
bank,  and  perhaps  to  feed  them  there,  and  not  al- 
ways in  nose-bags,  gave  him  much  annoyance,  as  it 
should  have  given  to  any  man.  I  liked  his  indigna- 
tion, and  therefore  encouraged  rather  than  checked 
it.  Later  he  removed  to  London,  where  I  hope  he 
was  not  scandalized  by  the  feeding  of  horses  at  the 
sides  of  streets  of  busy  commerce. 

While  the  three  great  grocery  houses,  Sprague's, 
Reid-Murdoch's  and  MacVeagh's,  had  each  two 
members  in  the  Club,  the  whole  hotel  line  in  the 
city,  which  was  as  much  concerned  with  provisions 

[23] 


and  supplies,  was  represented  only  by  John  B. 
Drake.  He  loved  his  business  and  was  especially 
proud  of  his  remarkable  game  dinners,  and  of  the 
fact  that  his  hotel  was  ready  for  business  at  all 
hours  of  day  or  night.  He  said  there  was  never  a 
lock  to  his  entrance  doors.  He  maintained  that  the 
profits  of  hotel  keeping  were  in  the  waste  cans, 
though  he  used  a  less  euphonious  and  perhaps  more 
expressive  word.  A  story  is  told  that  meeting  a  fel- 
low member  one  day,  he  asked  casually  if  he  could 
use  any  money,  not  mentioning  the  amount.  That 
afternoon  he  sent  over  $250,000,  asking  neither 
note  nor  acknowledgment.  Of  course  it  was  re- 
turned at  the  appointed  time  with  scrupulous 
punctuality  and  integrity. 

Drake  was  an  upright  man  in  every  way,  gen- 
erous minded,  and  a  supporter  of  all  good  causes, 
yet  modest  withal  for  one  who  had  achieved  so 
great  success.  He  was  short  in  stature  and  of  rather 
stocky  build,  but  alert  in  every  faculty.  He  knew 
all  of  the  great  men  of  his  time  in  our  own  country, 
and  many  from  other  lands 

There  was  Erskine  Phelps,  a  very  able  shoe  mer- 
chant and  manufacturer,  who  thought  he  resembled 
Napoleon  I.  in  voice  and  manner,  and  perhaps  in 
mind;  and  who  made  a  noteworthy  collection  of 
Napoleon-ana.  He  did  not  seem  a  bookish  man,  but 
I  think  he  was.  He  liked  a  good  horse,  he  liked 
a  good  table,  he  had  a  good  house  with  a  large, 
handsome  dooryard  on  Indiana  Avenue,  near  16th 
Street.   His  next  door  neighbor  on  Indiana  Avenue 

[  24] 


was  Murry  Nelson,  whose  business  was  grain,  both 
merchandising  and  storage,  the  most  aggressively 
honest,  the  most  incorruptible,  the  hardest  fighter 
for  what  he  thought  right  of  any  citizen  of  Chicago, 
clear  headed,  uncompromising,  plain  speaking  and 
courageous.  He  had  little  patience  with  finesse  or 
nice  social  distinctions,  but  for  any  good  cause  one 
could  always  depend  on  Murry  Nelson's  assistance. 
He  was  full  of  humor,  too,  and  enjoyed  a  lively  ar- 
gument, even  when  it  went  against  himself.  We 
and  our  families  were  warm  friends.  Frequently  he 
came  to  my  house  to  talk  over  public  matters,  and 
often  met  there  Elbridge  Keith,  another  broad- 
gauge,  public-spirited  man.  We  three  were  far  from 
being  in  agreement  always.  Keith's  business  in- 
terests as  merchant  and  banker,  and  his  attention 
to  politics  in  the  best  way,  kept  his  daylight  and 
sometimes  his  evening  hours  employed,  so  that  his 
wife  used  to  say  their  children  grew  so  fast  and  he 
saw  so  little  of  them  that  he  couldn't  recognize 
them  from  one  Sunday  to  the  next,  and  once  he 
found  his  eldest  son  loom  so  tall,  standing  beside 
him  in  church,  that  he  thought  he  must  be  standing 
on  the  footstool  and  bade  him  get  down  and  stand 
on  the  floor. 

Elbridge  Keith  was  not  a  handsome  man,  a  little 
stooped  in  carriage,  a  little  slouching  in  walk,  a 
little  careless  in  dress,  but  he  was  of  sterling  char- 
acter. He  and  his  brother  Edson  lived  side  by  side 
in  Prairie  Avenue,  but  Edson,  with  the  same  ster- 
ling character,  was  a  strikingly  handsome  man,  tall, 

[  25  ] 


erect,  with  springy  step,  dark  hair  and  full  beard, 
always  immaculately  dressed,  always  courteous, 
apparently  never  ruffled;  he  exactly  fitted  his 
splendid  business  of  wholesale  millinery  merchant. 
His  tragic  death  was  sincerely  mourned. 

Across  the  street  lived  Marshall  Field,  the  mon- 
arch of  them  all  as  merchant  and  man  of  affairs.  I 
suspect  his  hair  was  not  gray  when  I  first  knew  him, 
but  I  think  of  him  always  with  gray  hair  and  mous- 
tache, with  the  keenest  of  eyes  that  looked  one 
through  and  through  from  under  prominent  brows. 
He  had  unfailing  judgment  of  men — commercial 
judgment — an  impeccable  memory,  was  quick  in 
decision,  always  courteous,  or  at  least  I  can  remem- 
ber but  one  instance  when  I  thought  there  was 
any  lack.  His  close  acquaintances  thought  he  had 
not  many  resources  aside  from  business,  and  his 
widely  diversified  affairs  could  not  have  left  much 
time  for  anything  else.  He  had  most  kindly  feelings 
and  care  for  old  employes  and  old  friends  and  for 
good  causes  generally,  and  for  children,  but  he  liked 
to  do  things  in  his  own  way,  and  thought,  quite 
justly  I  believe,  that  nearly  everybody  was  trying 
to  tell  him  what  to  do  in  charity  and  with  his 
money.  Naturally  we  all  think  we  can  do  some 
things  with  a  man's  money  better  than  the  owner 
does.  We  must  take  off  our  hats  to  Marshall 
Field's  memory  for  his  splendid  donation  to  the 
Field  Museum,  even  while  we  deplore  that  his 
death  came  before  he  could  complete  the  further 
gifts  he  had  intended. 

[  26  ] 


William  Gold  Hibbard,  Nestor  of  hardware  mer- 
chants, living  near  to  me  in  Prairie  Avenue,  handi- 
capped by  being  hard  of  hearing,  yet  perhaps  for 
that  very  reason  warmer  in  friendships  and  more 
generous  in  charity,  and  Turlington  W.  Harvey, 
directly  across  the  street  from  him,  lumber  mer- 
chant of  great  activity,  with  a  score  of  yards  along 
the  length  of  the  Burlington  Railroad — the  first 
deeply  interested  in  St.  Luke's  Hospital,  and  the 
second  in  Dwight  Moody's  evangelist  movement 
— the  one  with  a  large  family  of  lively  and  comely 
daughters,  and  the  other  with  an  equally  large  fam- 
ily of  yet  more  lively  and  virile  boys,  who  played 
together  as  children  and  afterwards — yet  propin- 
quity did  not  make  marriages  between  these  suit- 
able and  complementary  young  persons.  Harvey 
was  a  great-minded  man  in  many  ways,  deeply 
interested  in  the  Relief  and  Aid  Society  and  in  Sal- 
vation Army  affairs.  He  amassed  a  considerable 
fortune,  which  he  spent  generously  in  religion  and 
charity.  Unfortunately  he  lost  much  of  his  fortune, 
and  died  far  from  home  in  a  hospital,  but  with  wife 
and  sons  beside  him. 

Charles  Palmer  Kellogg,  merchant  in  hats  and 
caps,  and  Charles  M.  Henderson,  boots  and  shoes, 
lived  near  by;  and  between  George  Pullman's  home 
and  Marshall  Field's  was  John  Wesley  Doane's, 
whose  specialty  was  teas  and  spices  and  coffees. 
The  use  of  electricity  then  was  novel.  Half  a  dozen 
men  in  the  neighborhood  had  their  own  private 
electric  light  plant  installed  in  Mr.  Doane's  stable 

[  v  i 


and  presided  over  by  a  somewhat  self-important 
engineer.  The  Doane  boys  managed  the  stable,  and 
the  master  himself  was  not  much  in  evidence.  It  is 
related  that  having  to  visit  the  place  once  himself, 
he  was  met  by  the  engineer  with — "Sorry,  sir,  but 
I  can't  let  you  in.  Mr.  Doane  doesn't  want  any 
strangers  about  here." 

It  is  a  melancholy  occupation  thus  to  recall  the 
friends  who  have  passed  from  sight,  but  there  are 
consoling  reflections  also.  The  recollection  is  both 
poignant  and  pleasant.  It  is  sad  to  realize  the 
effort  that  is  required  to  recall  the  men  we  do  not 
meet  daily,  but  pleasant  to  think  of  them.  They 
lived,  they  did  their  parts,  therein  they  had  joyous 
lives. 

I  never  knew  the  elder  Martin  Ryerson  until  I 
welcomed  him  into  the  Club,  or  he  welcomed  me;  and 
then  so  soon  after  his  death  in  1887  I  welcomed  the 
present  Martin  as  successor  to  his  father's  member- 
ship. The  elder  Ryerson  had  an  adventurous  life  as 
a  pioneer  lumber  man,  but  he  possessed  the  ele- 
ments of  genial  companionship,  notwithstanding 
his  long  sojourn  in  the  primitive  woods.  That  so- 
journ may  have  increased  the  natural  quiet  reserve 
of  his  manner.  Going  to  Europe  for  a  year  he  re- 
mained for  half  a  score  because  of  his  wife's  dread 
of  the  return  ocean  voyage.  Others  of  the  early 
members  of  the  Club  who  were  pioneers  in  the  lum- 
ber line  were  Uri  Balcom,  W.  C.  D.  Grannis  and 

f  28  1 


A.  A.  Carpenter.  The  latter  was  a  pioneer  dry 
goods  merchant  as  well  as  lumberman  and  adven- 
turer. He  went  to  California  with  the  gold  hunters, 
and  in  due  time  he  was  President  of  the  Citizens 
Association,  as  were  so  many  other  Commercial 
Club  members.  These  three  each  took  his  business 
seriously,  as  he  did  also  his  recreations  and  his  char- 
ities. Each  of  them  had  strong  characteristics,  and 
all  made  conspicuous  commercial  success. 

John  De  Koven,  always  my  friend  and  inciden- 
tally my  banker  for  many  years,  fond  of  good  living 
and  full  of  good  stories  of  the  early  days  when  he 
and  Field  and  Janes  and  others  were  new  here  and 
still  youngsters,  and  would  sit  in  the  moonlight  and 
in  slight  costume  on  the  board  fence  of  Dearborn 
Park,  where  the  Public  Library  is  now,  and  watch 
the  races  and  scuffling  of  their  mates,  when  one  was 
an  under  clerk  in  a  dry  goods  store,  another  a  bill 
clerk  in  a  railroad  office,  still  another  in  an  insurance 
office,  all  in  minor  capacities.  All  had  more  than 
the  usual  high  ambitions  of  youth,  and  all  attained 
them  in  full  and  overflowing  measure. 

De  Koven  was  a  widower  for  many  years,  but 
succumbed  to  Hymen's  witching  wiles  a  second 
time.  Otho  Sprague  took  his  young  daughter  to 
the  Lake  Shore  train  one  day,  sending  her  to  school, 
and  looked  about  for  a  friend  to  whose  care  he  could 
commend  her.  Finding  De  Koven — "John,  come 
and  see  my  little  girl.  Won't  you  look  after  her 
on  this  trip?"  Certainly,  certainly  he  would,  with 
great  pleasure.    And   then  in  a  minute — "Otho, 

[  29 1 


come  here,  in  the  drawing-room.  This  is  my  wife. 
We  were  married  today. "  And  so  Mr.  and  Mrs.  De 
Koven,  on  their  wedding  journey,  took  charge  of 
little  Miss  Sprag  lie  on  her  way  to  an  eastern  school. 

The  humor  of  that  situation  appealed  to  Otho 
Sprague.  It  was  his  humor  that  kept  him  alive  so 
long.  His  experience  in  the  Civil  War  left  him  with 
vitiated  lungs  and  heart,  and  but  for  his  humor  and 
sunny  disposition  he  must  have  had  many  doleful 
days.  And  yet  only  his  very  most  intimate  friends 
knew  it  if  he  had.  His  delicate  health  compelled 
him  to  spend  the  later  years  of  his  life  in  the  more 
comfortable  climate  of  California,  where  many  of 
us  visited  him  in  his  hospitable  home. 

And  one  cannot  speak  of  Otho  without  recalling 
his  slightly  older  brother,  Albert  Sprague.  They 
had  married  sisters,  they  were  in  business  together, 
they  lived  side  by  side,  they  had  the  same  tastes, 
Otho  with  the  more  sprightly  wit,  Albert  with  the 
more  literal  view  of  life,  equally  supporters  of  the 
good  and  true  in  art  and  literature  and  industry  and 
charity  and  good  will. 

And  next  to  them,  in  a  neighboring  house,  came 
Bartlett,  whom  nobody  called  by  his  first  name, 
Adolphus,  but  his  friends  always  knew  him  by  his 
middle  name  of  Clay.  He  was  not  strong  physically 
and  traveled  about  the  world  much  with  Otho 
Sprague,  seeking  health.  He  also  had  a  ready  and 
a  sprightly  wit.  Suave  in  manner,  quick  and  posi- 
tive in  decision,  of  sound  judgment,  full  of  energy — 
what  wonder  that  he  had  so  many  friends  and  made 

[  30] 


so  great  success  as  a  merchant.  He  had  a  sympa- 
thetic heart,  of  which  one  instance:  Hearing  one 
Sunday  noon  that  a  friend  engaged  in  social  welfare 
work  had  died  suddenly,  leaving  an  encumbered 
estate  and  a  helpless  family,  Mr.  Bartlett  headed 
his  subscription  paper,  walked  from  his  home  at 
27th  Street  down  Prairie  Avenue  on  one  side  to 
1 6th  Street  and  back  on  the  other,  and  had  raised  a 
fund  large  enough  to  cancel  the  mortgage  on  the 
home  and  leave  a  nice  nest  egg  for  the  widow;  and 
no  one  knew  of  it  except  those  who  put  their  names 
on  his  paper. 

Very  near  to  Bartlett's  home  was  Marvin 
Hughitt's,  of  C.  &  N.  W.  Ry.  H.  H.  Kohlsaat, 
publisher  and  baker,  lived  then  on  the  next  corner, 
Chauncey  Keep  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Avenue, 
and  Charles  Hutchinson  and  Ernest  Hamill,  all  of 
whom  by  the  grace  of  God  are  still  traveling  along 
with  us  through  this  vale  of  opportunity. 

Note: 

That  was  in  the  good  old  days  of  Prairie  Avenue's 
prestige  and  prosperity. 

Three  weeks  after  the  above  paragraph  was  written 
came  the  death  of  Charles  Hutchinson,  and  in  a  few 
days  afterwards  that  of  Herman  Kohlsaat.  They  were 
unlike,  but  both  were  marked  men  in  their  different 
ways,  each  with  a  nimble  wit,  a  penetrating  mind,  an 
adequate  vocabulary  to  praise  or  denounce  as  needed, 
a  fund  of  kindly  humor  and  of  good  stories  to  take  off 
the  sting  of  any  harsh  criticism. 

Of  Charles  Hutchinson  it  could  be  said  that  he  was 
a  hard-headed  business  man,  yet  a  dreamer,  a  financier 

[  31  ] 


and  an  art  connoisseur,  without  emotion  and  yet  full  of 
sympathy  for  all  good  things,  ready  to  expend  himself 
and  his  substance  in  a  good  cause  or  for  a  friend.  With- 
out seeking  them,  he  held  more  offices  of  trust  and  honor 
than  any  other  of  our  citizens. 

Kohlsaat  delighted  to  keep  a  finger  on  the  political 
pulse,  he  had  very  large  acquaintance  with  public  men, 
and  was  the  trusted  counsellor  and  adviser  of  many 
in  high  office — an  entertaining,  delightful  companion. 
After  active  membership  he  went  upon  the  Associate 
list  for  several  years,  and  then  withdrew  entirely  from 
the  Club  and  took  up  residence  in  New  York. 

And  still  a  few  days  later  came  the  death  of  James 
B.  Forgan,  another  marked  man,  of  wide  influence, 
great  practical  wisdom  and  experience,  warm  sympa- 
thy, ripe  judgment.  The  homely  virtues  of  industry, 
thrift  and  economy  were  his.  Honesty  and  fair  dealing, 
and  such  vision  that  without  overlooking  the  small 
things  could  grapple  with  the  great,  made  his  success  in 
life.  Always  courteous,  his  clear  complexion,  white  hair, 
commanding  figure  gave  the  impression  that  he  was  the 
cleanest  man  one  could  meet — in  person,  in  thought,  in 
action.  He  told  me  at  one  time  that  young  men  needed 
an  incentive  to  save,  and  that  when  he  was  starting  he 
made  up  his  mind  at  the  beginning  of  the  year  how 
much  he  should  save  from  his  income,  and  at  once  bor- 
rowed that  amount  and  invested  it.  Otherwise  when 
temptation  to  some  small  extravagance  came  he  might 
spend  this  week's  income  and  delay  saving  until  next 
week,  but  with  this  obligation  in  mind  he  saved  per- 
sistently until  all  was  paid. 

James  Wheeler  Oakley,  tanner  and  leather  mer- 
chant, who  could  tell  a  good  story  with  the  best  of 
story-tellers,  was  a  man  of  winning  ways  and  com- 
panionable; however  severe  his  lips  might  be  at 

[32] 


times  his  eyes  were  ever  merry  and  he  was  a  general 
favorite.  He  died  in  1897,  soon  after  I  got  to  know 
him  well.  I  don't  remember  the  cause  of  his  death, 
but  know  that  it  wasn't  because  of  his  acquaintance 
with  me. 

Henry  W.  King — I  knew  him  very  well,  and  his 
intimate  friend,  Franklin  Head.  Both  suffered 
acutely  from  hay  fever  and  were  obliged  to  seek 
relief  in  the  White  Mountains  in  August  and  Sep- 
tember, and  to  this  I  owe  much  pleasant  inter- 
course with  them.  King  was  an  able  man  in  busi- 
ness, in  charity  and  otherwise,  ever  regardful  of 
duty.  He  was  adviser  and  executor  or  trustee  for 
many  important  estates,  a  member  of  many  wel- 
fare and  humane  and  political — not  partisan — so- 
cieties, and  presided  over  many,  was  high  in  the 
councils  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  and  its  educa- 
tional institutions,  and  while  concerned  with  large 
things  did  not  neglect  small  ones.  The  Commercial 
Club  was  a  dignified  body,  and  he  wanted  even 
more  dignity  and  no  frivolity  whatever.  He  held 
liberal  views  in  almost  everything  except  family 
relations,  and  there  there  must  be  comformity  to 
the  strict  and  narrow  and  almost  puritanical  rules. 
Later  he  became  more  liberal  in  this  when  circum- 
stances in  his  own  household  showed  that  there 
might  be  conditions  that  would  justify  more  liber- 
ality. 

Besides  all  this  Henry  King  was  the  glass  of 
fashion  and  the  mould  of  form,  one  who  believed 
that  men  and  women  should  wear  proper  garments 

133} 


for  all  occasions,  who  could  and  did  tell  when  and 
what  to  wear  from  tan  shoes  to  the  newest  necktie 
and  the  latest  headgear,  as  was  natural,  for  his 
business  was  clothing,  who  thought  a  dinner  not  a 
dinner  unless  the  diner  was  in  dinner  clothes  and 
the  dinner  had  a  salad, — a  good  adviser  and  admon- 
isher — he  did  both  for  me  many  times  upon  request 
or  by  his  own  volition,  executor  for  many  estates 
and  trustee  for  many  heirs,  whose  purse  was  freely 
open  to  Presbyterian  charities  and  other  charities. 
He  was  a  true-hearted  gentleman,  a  good  friend, 
ready  with  sympathy,  and  he  never  betrayed  a 
confidence. 

I  knew  the  admirable  lady  who  survived  him  for 
many  years,  and  she  was  delightful,  too,  in  her  way. 
She  used  to  tell  how  that  after  she  came  into  the 
King  family  she  rescued  the  family  clock  case  from 
the  stable,  where  it  had  housed  the  currycomb  and 
other  instruments  for  the  equine  toilet,  and  re- 
stored it  to  the  works  from  which  it  had  been 
divorced.  After  the  ministrations  of  the  horologist 
and  the  cabinet  maker  it  resumed  its  place  as  a  fine, 
honored  article  of  use  and  household  adornment. 

The  other  member  in  the  clothing  trade  was 
Louis  Wampold,  an  unassuming,  quiet  man,  of  lib- 
eral views  and  open  purse,  and  highest  principles. 
I  wonder  if  it  was  his  dark-rimmed  glasses,  com- 
bined with  dark  hair  and  whiskers  faintly  sprinkled 
with  gray  that  gave  him  so  dark  an  appearance.  I  cut 
from  a  current  newspaper  a  very  pretty  story  about 
rival  clothing  merchants,  with  intention  to  read  it 

[34] 


to  King  and  Wampold  when  I  should  find  them  to- 
gether, but  unhappily  Wampold  had  been  gathered 
to  his  fathers  before  the  opportunity  came,  and 
King  followed  a  few  months  later. 

Harley  Bradley  became  a  member  of  the  Club  in 
1 88 1,  and  was  its  President  in  1904.  Lively,  genial, 
helpful,  every  one  of  us  rejoiced  in  his  friendship 
and  mourned  when  he  was  stricken  with  a  lingering 
illness  that  affected  his  speech  and  confined  him  to 
his  bed,  a  wheel-chair  and  one  floor  of  his  house, 
and  to  the  constant  loving  care  of  devoted  daugh- 
ters. I  remember  the  last  call  I  made  upon  him, 
near  the  end.  He  could  not  speak,  but  could  hear 
and  understand  perfectly,  and  the  look  in  his  eyes 
told  how  he  enjoyed  my  rambling  talk  of  our 
friends,  his  and  mine,  and  he  held  my  hand  as  if  he 
could  not  let  me  go,  though  I  feared  I  was  overtax- 
ing his  strength.  He  was  a  true,  loyal,  generous 
friend,  stricken  when  he  could  have  been  of  most 
use  to  his  family  and  to  society. 

Bradley's  business  was  akin  to  mine — his  making 
the  smaller  and  mine  the  larger  tools  for  farmers' 
use.  After  him  came  Christoph  Hotz,  and  still  later 
Hotz's  partner,  Peter  Schuttler,  wagon  makers, 
which  again  was  a  business  somewhat  akin  to  mine. 
Hotz  had  that  cheerful  smile  and  jovial  greeting 
that  warmed  the  cockles  of  one's  heart.  Schuttler 
was  more  restrained,  but  agreeable  also.  These 
three  men,  with  the  Spragues,  and  Coonley,  and 
Crane,  and  myself,  and  Chalmers,  made  up  the 
West  Side  contingent  in  the  early  days 

[35] 


Another  great  merchant  was  Levi  Leiter,  who  be- 
fore he  left  the  Field-Leiter  firm  and  went  to  live  in 
Washington,  lived  in  Calumet  Avenue.  He  was  the 
first  President  of  the  Commercial  Club.  Starting  in 
humble  capacity  in  a  dry  goods  store  in  Springfield, 
Ohio,  he  advanced  through  every  department  of 
the  business  and  became  one  of  the  country's  great- 
est and  most  famous  merchants.  He  was  one  of  the 
youngsters  who,  very  lightly  attired,  played  or  sat 
on  the  fence  and  watched  others  play  in  the  moon- 
light in  Dearborn  Park  when  Chicago  and  all  the 
world  was  young. 

Leiter  was  very  proud  of  his  trout  pond  and  his 
Southdown  sheep  on  his  Lake  Geneva  estate.  He 
at  one  time  promised  me  a  buck  and  two  ewes,  but 
somehow  I  never  got  them.  Those  at  the  "Mil- 
lionaires' Table"  at  Chicago  Club  used  to  chaff 
him,  saying  the,y  didn't  believe  he  had  any  sheep  or 
he  would  send  them  some  mutton.  One  midsum- 
mer evening  when  my  family  was  away  and  I  was 
keeping  grass-widower's  hall,  young  Murry  Nel- 
son came  rushing  over  with  "Mother  wants  you  to 
come  right  away — come  just  as  you  are — Mr. 
Leiter  has  sent  down  a  saddle  of  mutton" — and  so 
I  went  just  as  I  was,  and  found  Mr.  Leiter  in  im- 
maculate evening  clothes.  But  the  mutton  was 
good. 

A  good  many  men  graduated  from  business  and 
Chicago  to  Washington  and  politics.  Paul  Morton, 
a  railroad  man,  with  the  Chicago,  Burlington  & 
Quincy  and  other  roads,  and  later  with  the  Santa 

[36 1 


Fe,  became  Secretary  of  the  Navy  in  President 
Roosevelt's  Cabinet,  and  from  there  went  to  New 
York  to  preside  over  and  direct  the  Equitable  Life 
Insurance  Company.  He  was  fifty-four  years  old 
when  he  died,  in  January,  191 1,  but  that  was  all 
too  soon,  and  many  friends  mourned  his  early 
taking  off. 

Another  Chicago  man  who  kept  his  home  here 
and  lived  in  Washington  during  sessions  of  Con- 
gress was  Senator  Charles  B.  Farwell,  strong- 
minded,  decisive  but  good-natured,  an  excellent 
merchant,  of  large  views  and  wide  experience,  and 
much  interested  in  other  lines  than  his  own  dry 
goods  business,  always  accessible  and  cordial  with 
his  friends — a  much  greater  man  than  he  had 
credit  for  being. 

N.  K.  Fairbank  was  a  conspicuous  man,  large, 
fine  looking  and  positive.  In  any  emergency  one 
always  knew  where  to  find  him.  He  had  been 
trained  as  a  bricklayer,  and  was  proud  of  it  and  of 
his  ability  in  that  line.  His  main  business  was  as 
manufacturer  and  merchant  of  lard  and  lard  oils, 
but  he  took  in  provisions  and  grains  and  many 
other  things.  He  was  catholic  in  his  trade  and  in 
everything  else.  He  contemplated  building  in  his 
home  a  chapel  for  the  ladies  of  his  family,  and 
billiard  and  card  rooms  for  himself  and  his  sons. 
He  was  catholic  as  well  in  his  charities  and  his 
public  spirit,  a  generous  contributor  to  every  good 
thing.  He  made  and  lost  many  fortunes,  and  made 
many  friends  and  lost  none.   He  never  was  down- 

[37] 


hearted  at  his  losses  or  elated  at  his  gains,  and 
possessed  ample  means  at  the  end. 

"The  mildest  mannered  man  that  ever  scuttled 
ship  or  cut  a  throat"  was  Gen.  A.  C.  McClurg, 
member  of  the  Club  for  many  years  and  once  its 
President.  When  the  Civil  War  broke  out  he  was  a 
young  untrained  man,  with  his  business  spurs  yet 
to  win.  He  left  his  chosen  profession  of  bookselling 
to  join  the  army,  a  volunteer  in  the  ranks,  ignorant 
of  military  science,  even  of  the  manual  of  arms, 
but  by  dint  of  native  ability,  study  and  applica- 
tion, advanced  rapidly  through  every  post  to  the 
rank  of  Brigadier  General.  He  was  a  hard  fighter 
and  a  successful,  and  was  filled  with  solicitude  for 
the  welfare  of  all  under  his  command.  When  the 
war  ended  he  laid  aside  his  military  rank  and 
quietly  resumed  his  civilian  occupation  and  built 
up  a  great  business  as  bookseller  and  publisher. 
His  bookshop  was  known  far  and  wide,  the  resort 
of  bibliophiles  the  world  over,  especially  that  de- 
partment known  as  the  Saints  and  Sinners  Corner, 
where  were  found  the  choicest  of  human  spirits  on 
the  chairs  and  the  rarest  of  books  on  the  shelves. 
He  was  member  of  all  the  organizations  that  I  was, 
only  more  worthy  and  more  efficient.  His  military 
experience,  however,  did  not  leave  him.  He  visited 
London  to  consult  a  noted  physician  to  whom  he 
was  entirely  unknown,  who  looked  him  over  and 
said  of  some  symptom — that  you  got  in  military 
service.  "What  makes  you  think  I  have  had 
military  service?"  "I  don't  think  it;  I  know;  your 

[38 1 


malady  comes  only  from  military  service."  Mc- 
Clurg  died  in  the  South.  As  I  waited  for  the  train 
that  brought  his  body  home  to  be  laid  in  Grace- 
land  I  thought,  Here  was  a  man  of  the  highest 
ideals.  And  he  reached  them.  Peace  to  his  manes. 

Another  military  member,  and  he  also  was  a 
lumberman,  was  Gen.  William  E.  Strong.  A  man 
who  can  sing  and  won't  sing  should  be  made  to 
sing  is  an  altogether  unnecessary  injunction,  for 
there  is  nothing  that  a  man  who  can  sing  likes  so 
much  to  do,  and  so  it  was  with  Gen.  Strong.  He  was 
both  a  sweet  and  a  strong  singer,  and  he  enjoyed 
to  sing  as  much  as  his  hearers  did  to  hear  him  and 
to  join  in  the  chorus.  And  "Marching  Through 
Georgia"  was  his  favorite  number.  He  had  a 
record  of  able  service  on  General  Sherman's  staff 
during  the  Civil  War,  and  marched  with  him  on 
that  famous  march.    He  died  in  April,  1891. 

Then  there  was  the  Dancing  Class  that  met 
weekly,  sometimes  at  John  Clark's  house,  but  gen- 
erally at  Bournique's  Academy  (high  sounding 
title),  which  included  the  Dexters,  the  Gen. 
Sheridans,  and  others  who  were  not  of  the  Com- 
mercial Club  but  of  its  friends.  Among  those  most 
deeply  interested  were  the  Clarks,  the  Fairbanks, 
the  Doanes,  the  Pullmans,  the  MacVeaghs,  who 
at  that  time  lived  in  Michigan  Avenue  near  18  th 
Street,  until  the  new  Richardson  home  he  built  took 
him  to  the  North  Side  as  mine  took  me  to  the 
South.  Into  this  dancing  crowds  so  joyful  strife,  my 
sober  footsteps  never  learned  to  stray,  and  be- 

[39 1 


sides,  the  West  Side  was  too  far  distant,  and  the 
dancing  class  was  given  up  about  the  time  I  came 
into  its  neighborhood. 

Perhaps  an  added  bond  of  sympathy  between 
John  Clark,  MacVeagh  and  myself  and  Murry 
Nelson,  was  that  we  had  similar  families — each 
one  son  and  one  daughter  of  corresponding  ages, 
except  that  Murry  had  two  sons  and  one  daughter 
— and  we  lived  near  together,  I  in  the  center  and 
the  others  each  two  blocks  distant,  but  in  three 
different  directions. 

A  serious  minded  man  was  Hon.  George  E. 
Adams,  lawyer,  politician,  congressman,  member 
of  this  Club,  its  President  in  1907,  and  much  more 
a  statesman  than  a  politician.  He  was  the  first 
congressman  of  his  time,  and  not  alphabetically 
only.  And  so  George  Adams*  name  led  all  the  rest. 
In  all  roll  calls  and  lists  his  was  the  first  name  to 
be  called.  He  was  erect  in  carriage,  as  his  friends 
well  remember,  and  had  a  lofty  and  distinguished 
poise  of  head  and  chin.  Because  he  was  a  remark- 
ably able  and  pleasing  presiding  officer  he  was 
often  called  in  that  capacity.  He  was  deeply  in- 
terested in  literature  and  music  and  art,  and  was 
for  several  terms  President  of  the  Orchestral  As- 
sociation. He  had  an  acute  sense  of  responsibility 
and  of  the  fitness  of  things  and  ranked  high  in 
every  way. 

Many  members  lived  at  the  upper  end  of  Prairie 
Avenue.  It  was  not  unusual  for  one  of  half  a  dozen 
men  to  stop  at  the  corner  of  18th  street,  as  boys 

[40] 


would  do,  and  look  up  and  down  the  Avenue  to 
find  some  one  to  walk  down  street  with  them. 
They  didn't  actually  shout  "Yahoo,  Johnny,  come 
on  over,"  as  boys  would  have  done,  but  they 
thought  it. 

I  did  not  know  Andrew  Brown,  the  packer, 
affectionately  called  Andy,  nor  William  Chisholm, 
iron  and  steel,  at  all.  They  had  removed  from 
Chicago  long  before  their  deaths.  Neither  did  I 
know  E.  T.  Watkins  of  the  Gas  Company,  nor 
John  M.  Durand,  grocer,  very  well.  Charles  M. 
Henderson,  boots  and  shoes,  was  my  neighbor. 
Incipient  softening  of  the  brain  darkened  his 
latter  years.  Henry  B.  Stone,  railroads,  who  would 
have  been  chosen  President  had  he  lived  a  few 
months  longer,  Charles  Fargo,  President,  American 
Express  Company,  Anthony  Seeberger,  hardware 
merchant,  tall,  grave  of  face,  with  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye  that  gave  assurance  of  humor  behind  that 
mask,  George  Walker,  real  estate,  another  lovable 
man, — I  knew  them  well  and  admired  them  much. 
Orrin  W.  Potter  made  an  excellent  President  in 
1 88 1,  and  C.  Fred  Kimball  was  a  most  efficient 
Treasurer  in  1902—3-4. 

As  an  interesting  item  in  these  recollections  I 
could  tell  of  half  a  dozen  of  the  more  prominent 
men  here  mentioned  who  dined  at  my  house  one 
evening,  and  over  their  cigars  speculated  on  what 
each  man  could  do  to  make  his  living  if  for  any 
reason  he  was  precluded  from  making  it  by  his 

[41  ] 


chosen  profession.  Mind  you,  this  was  in  all 
seriousness,  and  it  was  singular  that  every  man  of 
them  would  rely  upon  some  circus  or  vaudeville 
trick — notably  Henry  B.  Stone,  and  also  Theodore 
Thomas,  who  was  with  us  and  was  every  man's 
friend,  but  not  of  us  as  member  of  the  Club. 

The  Commercial  Club  made  various  trips,  on 
some  of  which  I  couldn't  go.  I  well  remember  now 
the  pang  I  felt  when  I  saw  the  company  off  to 
Duluth  and  the  iron  country,  and  again  when  they 
went  on  the  Chesapeake  &  Ohio  excursion  without 
me.  I  helped  to  pilot  them  to  Cincinnati,  though, 
in  my  administration,  and  was  with  them  through 
the  California  trip,  and  to  St.  Louis  and  to  Boston, 
etc.  On  all  these  occasions  there  was  an  absence  of 
restraint  except  during  the  formal  exercises. 

After  the  last  Boston  trip  I  took  them  to  my 
country  home  in  New  Hampshire  for  a  short  call 
that  would  have  been  longer  except  that  one  of 
our  number  objected  to  traveling  on  Sunday.  We 
stopped  our  train  at  the  end  of  a  stub  road  some 
distance  below  the  Profile  House,  and  drove  in 
four-horse  Concord  coaches,  quite  a  string  of  them, 
the  remainder  of  the  way,  leaving  the  train  to  go 
back  to  the  main  line  and  around  to  our  regular 
station.  Once  at  my  house  each  man  had  his  pref- 
erences and  evidenced  his  ruling  passion,  strong  in 
pleasure.  It  really  was  amusing  to  watch  these 
men,  so  staid  and  sober  at  home,  so  frolicsome 
when  abtoad.  One  wanted  to  see  the  wild  flowers, 

[42] 


another  the  vegetable  garden.  Peabody  was  curious 
about  the  source  of  water  supply;  Harvey  looked 
at  the  cows,  etc.,  etc.;  Bernard  Eckhart  and  several 
of  the  younger  men  tried  racing  over  the  grass 
paths,  ending  in  the  downfall  of  the  miller  and 
grievous  damage  to  his  garments.  Like  Sheridan  at 
Winchester  that  was  serious  business,  with  Bar- 
ney^ other  trousers  twenty  miles  away — as  the 
crow  flies  over  the  hills,  and  ninety  as  the  railroad 
runs  around  them.    But  that  was  remedied. 

It  so  happened  that  my  lady  had  visiting  her  at 
that  time  an  old  and  much  loved  schoolmistress  of 
Chicago,  and  it  also  so  happened  that  several  of 
these  Club  members,  now  grave  and  serious  with 
responsibility  at  home,  had  once  been  pupils  of 
hers,  and  several  others  had  been  on  the  Chicago 
School  Board  in  her  time.  These  two  were  the  only 
ladies  to  grace  this  company,  the  company  was  too 
large  for  our  dining  room — so  one  table  was  set 
there  and  another  in  the  hall  adjoining,  with  one 
lady  at  each  table,  and  there  was  much  rivalry  to 
get  their  attention.  I  will  not  name  them — that 
sainted  schoolmistress  and  half  of  her  admirers  in 
this  company  have  now  joined  the  great  majority. 

I  was  with  the  Club  on  the  Cuban  trip — one  of 
great  recreation  and  delight  and  some  profit.  We 
stood  together,  Fuller  and  I,  and  perhaps  one  or 
two  others,  on  the  diminutive  hill  of  San  Juan  and 
looked  on  the  battlefield  and  moralized  over  the 
civilization  that  permitted  naked  half-grown  boys 
and  girls  in  numbers  along  the  road  we  had  passed, 

[43] 


though  the  day  was  bright  and  warm,  and  later  we 
marvelled  as  we  walked  arm  in  arm  down  the  gently 
sloping  cobble-paved  roadway  in  the  quiet  of  a 
cloudless  Sunday  morning  to  the  beautiful  blue 
waters  of  Santiago  Bay.  Nature  quickly  obliterates 
the  ravages  of  war  on  land,  and  almost  instantly 
where  the  waters  hide  the  sunken  argosy.  And  as 
we  looked  with  non-military  eyes  over  this  field 
and  these  waters  we  agreed  privately  with  our  two 
selves  that  the  Cuban-Spanish-American  War  was 
a  sort  of  six-by-nine  affair,  and  that  a  modicum 
of  human  endeavor  combined  with  a  considerable 
coating  of  printers'  ink  is  the  making  of  heroes. 

The  California  trip,  under  the  Presidency  of 
William  A.  Fuller,  and  on  invitation  of  the  Santa 
Fe  and  the  Chicago  &  Northwestern  Ry.  was  made 
in  a  special  train  that  carried  not  only  our  company 
but  every  facility  for  comfort  and  pleasure — beds, 
baths,  barber  shop,  table,  refreshments,  news- 
papers, library,  and  everything  belonging  to  a 
civilized,  cultured,  luxurious  life,  and  gave  us  three 
weeks  of  delightful  association  so  intimate  that 
each  man  really  knew  and  was  known  by  his 
neighbor  when  we  got  home.  Even  the  barber  pro- 
claimed his  satisfaction  that  he  had  come  with  us, 
for  "while  of  course  he  had  known  Mr.  Field  in  a 
business  way  before,  he  had  never  met  him 
socially  until  now."  At  that  time  no  one  could  be 
sure  that  this  was  not  one  of  Will  Chalmers' 
pleasantries.  James  H.  Eckels,  one  time  Comp- 
troller of  the  Currency,  under  Cleveland,  banker 

[44] 


and  all-round  business  man,  was  called  upon  for 
various  addresses  or  responses,  one  particularly  at 
Phoenix,  Ariz.,  in  awarding  prizes  in  ty-steering 
(steer  tying)  contests  among  cowboys,  was  erudite 
— as  the  occasion  demanded.  Eckels  may  have  had 
an  austere  face,  but  he  had  smiling  eyes  that  belied 
that.  He  was  a  man  of  many  close  friendships. 

Crossing  the  bay  at  San  Francisco,  Mr.  Head, 
when  asked  by  reporters  about  Who's  Who — 
pointed  out  William  T.  Baker  as  our  greatest  grain 
merchant:  "he  can  write  his  check  for  $20,000,000/ ' 
Every  California  paper  carried  that  story  the  next 
morning,  and  after  that  it  preceded  us  at  every 
stop.  There  was  much  persiflage  of  that  sort,  along 
with  more  serious  things. 

It  was  true  about  the  grain  merchant,  but 
William  Baker  was  more  than  that:  truly  he  was  a 
good  citizen,  and  a  versatile.  On  the  way  to  Phcenix 
and  Prescott,  in  Arizona,  we  had  word  that  the 
Governor  would  be  glad  to  receive  us  in  his  office 
in  the  State  House.  We  therefore  arranged  that 
Mr.  Baker  would  make  the  response  to  the  Gov- 
ernor's expected  address  of  welcome.  When  we 
filed  in  and  heard  Governor  Murphy's  address — 
"Gentlemen,  have  a  cigar,"  of  course  the  response 
had  to  be  equally  concise  and  unmistakable, 
something  in  the  line  of  "Don't  care  if  we  do." 
After  an  hour's  pleasant  talk,  in  which  we  learned 
more  of  Arizona  than  we  had  known,  and  the 
Governor  learned  more  of  Chicago  than  he  had 
known,    we    re-entered    our    carriages    with    Mr. 

[45] 


Head's  remark,  "Baker,  that's  the  best  speech  you 
ever  made."  But  Baker  was  a  fine  speaker.  Many 
business  men  are  at  a  loss  on  such  occasions:  he 
was  different.  His  thoughts  came  quick  and  clear 
and  in  logical  sequence  when  he  was  on  his  feet, 
expressed  in  excellent  and  concise  English  and  in 
an  agreeable  carrying  voice.  He  had  been  President 
of  the  World's  Fair,  of  the  Commercial  Club,  and, 
I  think,  of  the  Citizens  Association 

And  Franklin  Head  was  besides  a  banker  an  all- 
round  man  of  affairs,  with  large  and  varied  in- 
terests. He  was  a  literary  man  of  high  rank,  and 
had  prominent  part  in  many  literary,  historical, 
scientific  and  philosophical  societies.  His  humor 
was  gentle  and  all  pervading,  and  his  friends  in- 
numerable and  devoted.  His  skits  about  the  "In- 
somnia of  Shakespeare,"  "Legend  of  Jeckyll 
Island,"  and  "A  Notable  Law  Suit,"  brought  him 
a  national  reputation  and  much  amusing  cor- 
respondence. I  was  close  in  his  confidence  while  he 
was  preparing  some  of  these,  particularly  the  last 
mentioned. 

Head  was  more  than  a  little  absent-minded  at 
times.  When  in  the  White  Mountains  he  and  Henry 
King  had  communicating  rooms  at  Maplewood 
Hotel,  and  with  fatherly  interest  King  always 
looked  Head  over  as  they  finished  dressing.  One 
morning  he  said,  "Colonel" — he  always  called 
Head  Colonel— "that  tie  won't  do."  "Well,  Henry, 
what's  wrong  with  the  tie?  What  tie  shall  I  put 
on?"   "Any  one  but  that:  that  tie  won't  go  with 

[46] 


that  suit  at  all."  And  Mr.  King  went  down  to 
breakfast,  followed  soon  by  his  friend,  to  be  greeted 
with,  "Why,  Colonel,  what  have  you  done?"  "Well, 
Henry,  what  have  I  done?  Isn't  the  tie  right?" 
"No:  youVe  put  the  second  tie  on  top  of  the 
first." 

At  luncheon  at  my  house  one  day  that  summer 
the  two  friends  were  eager  to  get  bulletins  from 
the  Sullivan-Corbett  prize  fight,  then  going  on  at 
New  Orleans,  and  wishing  that  Corbett  might  win, 
for  as  they  expressed  it,  Sullivan  was  a  brute  and 
a  bruiser  and  Corbett  was  a  real  gentleman.  But 
wasn't  it  Corbett's  wife  who  encouraged  her 
husband  with,  "Hit  him  in  the  slats,  Jim;  hit  him 
in  the  slats?" 

Mr.  Head  died  in  June,  19 14,  away  from  home, 
but  with  his  daughters  beside  him. 

Returning  from  the  California  trip  and  a  hundred 
miles  or  so  before  we  reached  Salt  Lake  City,  quite 
early  in  the  morning,  we  were  met  by  a  Reception 
Committee  from  that  place,  of  which  my  business 
representative  was  the  head.  He  was  not  a  Mor- 
mon, but  his  associate  was,  and  the  latter  was 
returning  from  the  East  with  a  part  of  his  family — 
two  ladies,  one  his  wife.  The  other  may  have  been 
his  daughter,  or  another  wife — he  was  said  to  have 
three.  I  only  know  she  was  pretty.  Now,  our  com- 
pany, all  men,  were  just  getting  out  of  their  berths 
and,  of  course,  not  prepared  to  receive  ladies.  So  I 
had  to  excuse  myself,  rush  back  to  the  car,  and 
hustle  either  John  Clark  or  Murry  Nelson  out  of 

[47 1 


their  state  rooms  to  make  a  place  for  the  ladies. 
Clark  was  furthest  along  and  had  to  vacate,  and 
the  porter  gave  the  room  a  lick  and  a  promise,  and 
then  the  ladies  were  taken  aboard  as  the  train 
moved  off,  and  with  a  great  show  of  dignified 
politeness  we  gave  them  the  place  of  honor.  I  hesi- 
tate to  repeat  the  characterization  Harley  Bradley 
gave  of  the  Mormon  official  and  his  exceedingly 
long  beard. 

A  local  philosopher  has  said  that  perfect  con- 
fidence doesn't  exist  between  two  women  until 
their  back  hair  is  down.  Similarly  with  the  male 
element  confidence  comes  when  two  or  three  are 
gathered  together  in  the  wee  sma'  hours.  Peabody 
and  Porter  and  I,  and  perhaps  two  others — I 
write  from  recollection,  not  from  records — were 
delegates  to  a  Hard  Money  Conference  at  Indian- 
apolis, where  we  kept  rather  late  hours,  I  fear,  for 
staid  heads  of  families.  Porter,  railroad  president 
and  financier,  man  of  broad  vision  and  large  under- 
takings, told  this  tale  of  an  experience  when  he 
was  General  Superintendent  of  the  Lake  Shore 
Road,  in  the  early  days  of  the  Pullman  Palace 
Sleeping  Cars  and  of  the  Civil  War.  Then  the  cars 
of  passenger  trains  were  classified — smoking  car, 
emigrants'  car,  common  car,  ladies'  car,  and 
occasionally  sleeper;  and  it  was  economy  to  have 
as  few  cars  on  a  train  as  possible,  especially  as  the 
Government  was  apt  to  confiscate  a  car  to  carry 
soldiers  if  trains  were  running  empty.  Going  from 

[48  ] 


Cleveland  to  Chicago  one  night,  Porter's  conductor 
reported  there  were  but  two  men  in  the  day 
coach,  and  was  told  to  put  them  in  the  ladies'  car 
and  omit  the  coach.  One  went  there  and  the  other 
forward  to  the  emigrants'  car.  Later  the  conductor 
roused  Porter  from  sleep  to  say  an  emigrant  was 
making  a  great  fuss  about  having  been  robbed  of 
several  hundred  dollars.  After  ineffectual  attempts 
by  the  conductor  to  develop  the  criminal,  Porter 
went  forward  himself  and  accused  the  man  who 
had  left  the  day  coach,  and  by  threat  to  drop  him 
off  the  train  in  motion  induced  the  question, 
"What  will  you  do  if  I  tell  you?"  "Put  you  in  the 
penitentiary."  And  he  got  the  confession.  Then, 
with  the  man  under  guard,  he  telegraphed  ahead 
and  had  the  road's  private  policeman  at  the  train 
on  arrival  and  arrested  the  robber.  And  still  later 
the  road's  attorney  was  to  prosecute.  When  the 
case  came  on,  all  parties  present,  the  lawyer  found 
an  imperfect  case,  as  there  was  no  evidence  to 
locate  the  crime — Ohio,  Indiana  or  Illinois — and 
so  had  the  case  adjourned.  Thereupon  Porter  took 
it  up  again  with,  "I  told  you  the  other  night  I'd 
throw  you  off  the  train,  and  you  believed  me?" 
"Yes."  "And  I'd  send  you  to  the  penitentiary,  and 
you  believed  me?"  "Yes."  "Well,  I've  thought 
about  it  again.  The  Government  wants  soldiers; 
you're  a  sturdy  man;  if  you'll  go  to  Camp  Douglas 
and  enlist  in  the  Union  Army  and  agree  to  fight 
loyally,  I'll  let  you  off."  And  the  fellow  was  turned 
over  to  two  city  policemen.  All  this  while  the  rail- 

[49] 


road  policeman  was  standing  around  very  uneasy 
with  no  chance  to  talk  to  Mr.  Porter,  but  called  on 
him  the  next  day — uMr.  Porter,  why  didn't  you 
let  me  take  that  man  to  Camp  Douglas?  Those  two 
city  police  got  $100  each  bounty  for  enlisting  him." 
And  Porter  concluded  he  was  successful  to  appre- 
hend but  unsuccessful  to  punish. 

Francis  Bolles  Peabody  was  another  unusual 
man,  thoughtful,  prudent  and  wise.  He  preceded 
me  by  one  term  as  President  of  the  Citizens 
Association  and  by  one  term  as  President  of  this 
Club.  He  had  had  thorough  legal  training  in  the 
office  of  Franklin  Pierce  just  before  Pierce  was 
elected  fourteenth  President  of  the  United  States. 
Peabody  was  what  we  called  a  mortgage  banker  in 
those  days  and  would  now  designate  an  investment 
banker.  His  younger  partner  and  son-in-law,  James 
L.  Houghteling,  a  studious,  thoughtful,  high 
minded  man,  took  his  club  membership  seriously 
from  1884  until  his  death  in  1900.  As  President  of 
the  Citizens  Association  Mr.  Peabody  aroused  the 
wrath  of  some  politicians,  and  I  fell  heir  to  that, 
which  made  my  efforts  to  get  the  Chicago  Drainage 
bill  through  the  Illinois  legislature  very  difficult. 
It  delayed  the  passage  somewhat,  but  didn't 
defeat  it. 

In  our  efforts  for  the  passage  of  the  Drainage  bill 
through  the  legislature  we  tried  to  harmonize 
every  influence  in  Chicago,  and  mine  were  espe- 
cially directed  to  Hon.  Joseph  Medill  of  the 
Chicago  tribune.  I  always  afterwards  had  a  mild 

[  50] 


grudge  against  the  Spragues  and  Bartlett  and 
Nelson  and  one  or  two  others  that  they  would  not 
go  with  me  to  beard  the  'Tribune  lion  in  his  den. 
They  had  had  experience.  Medill  was  aggravatingly 
good-natured  on  this  occasion,  but  it  was  hard  to 
convince  or  even  argue  with  him,  for  whenever  I 
would  make  a  good  point  he  would  take  down  his 
ear  trumpet,  and  I  might  as  well  speak  to  a  stone 
wall.  Finally,  however,  he  agreed  to  go  with  us  to 
Springfield,  and  he  did  valiant  work  for  the  bill. 
He  was  the  best  posted  man  politically  that  was 
ever  produced  in  the  West,  and  I  well  remember 
how,  after  everybody  else  had  gone  to  bed,  he  and 
I  sat  on  the  edge  of  my  berth  (his  was  just  opposite) 
and  talked  until  very  late.  His  reminiscences  were 
of  absorbing  interest. 

Edward  P.  Ripley,  head  of  one  of  the  great 
transcontinental  railway  systems  of  the  country, 
the  Santa  Fe,  when  asked  by  a  lady,  in  my  presence, 
the  duties  of  a  railway  president  replied,  to  do 
anything  that  was  so  mean,  or  small  or  disagreeable 
or  difficult  that  no  one  else  would  do  it.  He  took 
his  road  from  virtual  bankruptcy  and  made  it  a 
well  organized,  well  equipped,  popular,  money- 
making  enterprise.  When  urged  to  become  Presi- 
dent of  the  Commercial  Club  he  counselled,  "Wait; 
wait  until  I  haven't  so  much  to  do,"  but  was 
ready  always  to  take  his  part.  He  selected  first- 
class  aids,  and  was  always  considerate  in  what  he 
required  of  them;  he  appreciated  their  devotion  to 
his  cause;  he  was  quick  to  see  good  qualities  in 

[51  ] 


those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  I  saw  a  good 
deal  of  him  the  winters  I  spent  at  Santa  Barbara. 
There  he  said  he  wouldn't  let  his  business  interfere 
with  his  golf.  At  his  seventieth  anniversary  his  rail- 
road friends  gave  him  a  birthday  dinner,  and 
spoke  the  highest  compliments  in  heartfelt  words. 
In  a  few  months  thereafter  death  severed  the 
cordial  relations  that  had  so  long  continued. 

Byron  Laflin  Smith,  another  able  banker,  exec- 
utor, trustee  and  adviser  for  estates  and  individuals, 
besides  the  serious  concerns  of  his  business  life, 
was  full  of  good-tempered  practical  jokes  when  off 
duty.  Walking  home  one  night  with  a  comrade  he 
bantered,  "I'll  race  you  around  the  block  for 
a  dollar. "  And  the  friend,  not  knowing  that  Byron 
was  in  athletic  training,  wheezed  along,  much  out- 
distanced. And  then  the  dollar,  and  what  to  do 
with  it.  The  decision  was  to  give  it  to  the  Univer- 
sity of  Chicago  anonymously.  And  at  the  next 
convocation  Dr.  Harper  read  out  dramatically 
among  many  large  gifts,  "One  dollar  from  a 
Friend,  anonymously,"  and  many  in  the  audience 
thought  it  a  gift  from  some  toiling  widow  who  de- 
prived herself,  and  that  the  gift  really  meant  more 
to  her  than  the  thousands  given  by  the  well-to- 
do.  And  Byron  and  his  friend  chuckled  softly  to 
themselves. 

Again:  going  to  his  summer  home  at  Lake  Forest 
one  evening  a  lady  said  to  him — "Mr.  Smith,  I 
am  raising  funds  for  (naming  an  excel- 
lent charity)  and  I  want  one  hundred  dollars  from 

1 5^1 


you."  "All  right,  Mrs.  H.,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll 
do.  I  am  soliciting  for  the  Chicago  Orphan  Asylum. 
If  you'll  give  me  one  hundred  dollars  for  that,  I'll 
give  you  one  hundred  dollars  for  your  charity." 
When    that    bargain    was    completed    she    said, 

"I'm  going  to  see  Mr.  tomorrow  and 

get  one  hundred  dollars  from  him."  "Bet  you  two 
dollars  you  won't."  The  next  Friday  the  lady 
walked  in  to  Mr.  Smith's  desk  and  laid  down  two 
dollars.  "What's  this  for?"  "I  didn't  get  the 
subscription  I  told  about."  And  when  the  one 
hundred  and  two  dollars  was  presented  at  the  next 
Orphan  Asylum  meeting  Byron  had  to  explain 
about  the  odd  two  dollars.  Alas,  the  three  principals 
in  this  little  episode  all  are  gone,  but  the  two 
Institutions  still  are  carrying  on  their  excellent 
work  and  soliciting  gifts  to  pay  for  it.  It  was 
through  Byron  Smith's  work  as  executor  that  the 
Old  Men's  Home  was  established  through  the  will 
of  James  King. 

The  Old  Guard  and  the  next  to  the  Old  Guard 
who  are  still  with  us  are  growing  fewer  and  fewer, 
yet  there  are  many  more  of  those  who  have  gone — 
Blatchford  and  Rand  and  Ream,  and  Seeberger 
and  Houghteling  and  Higinbotham,  merchant  and 
President  of  the  World's  Columbian  Exposition, 
and  Burnham,  its  architect  and  builder,  and  others, 
and  others,  of  each  of  whom  I  might  say  many  an 
interesting  word  to  revive  our  memories,  if  that 
were  needed.  "All,  all  are  gone,  the  old  familiar 

[53] 


faces. "  We  mourn  our  loss.  We  grieve  that  they 
have  departed  this  life.  Departed  this  life:  what 
pathos  in  that  old-fashioned  phrase!  The  bodily- 
activities  have  ceased;  the  untiring  minds  are  at 
rest;  our  recollections  persist.  For  their  lives  and 
works  our  paeans  of  praise,  for  their  deaths  and 
parting  our  sad  tears,  for  our  past  associations  only 
cheerful  memories.  Farewell,  old  friends,  farewell. 

It  is  common  to  prate  of  the  heartlessness  of 
great  cities,  but  not  entirely  justified.  The  larger 
and  more  widespread  the  city,  the  harder  to  probe 
and  know  its  true  heart.  Chicago  was  and  is  hos- 
pitable, ready  to  meet  the  stranger  half  way,  and 
take  him  at  his  proven  worth.  I  came  here  still 
callow,  without  experience,  without  acquaintance, 
without  introductions,  to  supplant  an  unsatis- 
factory representative.  I  found  little  snobbery  in 
Chicago.  There  is  none  in  the  Commercial  Club.  I 
was  most  kindly  received  by  both. 

These  are  lightsome  sketches  of  my  early  friends 
in  the  Commercial  Club — not  important,  for  I 
have  had  no  thought  to  give  a  serious  history  of 
these  men  and  their  achievements.  It  may  be  that 
my  gossipy  tales  may  have  a  little  brief  interest 
for  those  who  hold  some  memory  of  the  appearance 
and  characteristics  of  the  men  whom  I  am  proud 
to  have  known  familiarly  in  their  heyday — those 
characteristics  of  mind  and  heart  that  we  love  to 
honor.  The  list  omits  many,  too  many,  who  have 

[54] 


died  in  recent  years,  who  were  my  dear  friends, 
but  not  of  the  original  Old  Guard. 

Fate  has  been  kinder  to  some  of  the  members  of 
the  Old  Guard.  A  good  many  have  left  our  gray 
and  dull  and  smoke-begrimed  but  much  loved 
atmosphere  and  surroundings  for  the  milder  air 
and  brighter  skies  east  and  west  and  north  and 
south. 

These  elders  made  the  Club,  for  it  was  their 
fortune  to  be  with  it  in  its  infancy.  The  present 
younger  members  are  not  younger  now  than  those 
in  their  time.  These  will  carry  on  the  Club  with  the 
same  high  aims  and  I  have  faith  to  greater  accom- 
plishment; but  these  younger  don't  belong  in  this 
category — they  are  still  in  busy  life,  still  grappling 
with  its  fluctuations  and  its  vast  concerns. 

If  my  dates  and  some  other  things  are  a  little 
confused  and  confusing  or  even  inharmonious, 
please  remember  I  have  stated  that  I  write  from 
recollection,  not  from  records. 

If  there  seems  unnecessary  garrulity,  I  urge  my 
friends  to  be  considerate.  As  for  age,  they  are 
approaching  where  I  may  be  said  to  have  arrived — 
and  a  fellow  feeling  makes  us  wondrous  kind. 

In  whatever  I  did  to  make  and  retain  these 
friendships,  I  had  more  than  the  help,  the  cordial 
and  most  active  and  efficient  co-operation  of  the 
lady  who  honored  me  with  unstinted  confidence 
and  the  privilege  of  paying  her  bills,  though  her 
part  was  mostly  behind  the  scenes.  My  house  was 
a  meeting  place,  and  to  me  two  of  the  most  de- 

[  S5l 


lightful  gatherings  we  had  were  when  the  Com- 
mercial Club  held  one  of  its  annual  meetings  at 
my  home  here,  and  again  when  it  visited  me  for  a 
day  at  my  country  place  in  New  Hampshire.  In- 
deed I  believe  that  my  friends  thought  better  of 
her  than  they  did  of  me,  as  I  did  and  do  myself. 

I  am  admonished  to  hasten  in  setting  down 
these  memories  lest  soon  there  be  no  one  left  to 
send  them  to.  Since  Charles  Hutchinson's  death  I 
merit  one  distinction  along  with  Marvin  Hughitt. 
He  and  I  are  the  earliest  and  for  the  longest  time 
in  active  resident  membership  of  the  Commercial 
Club.  I  could  easily  appraise  him  had  I  enough 
sufficiently  laudatory  adjectives  at  command,  for 
he  has  been  a  man  of  deeds  and  accomplishments 
since  before  he  walked  the  length  of  I.  C.  R.  R., 
inspecting  telegraph  lines  and  outfit,  until  now  the 
head  of  one  of  the  greatest,  most  successful  and 
prosperous  and  powerful  of  the  great  railroad 
systems  of  the  country,  due  to  his  directing  efforts. 

And  as  for  myself:  I  have  had  some  modest 
success  in  the  past  and  may  perhaps  hope  for  a 
still  more  modest  part  in  the  future,  but  sub- 
mit that  it  is  too  soon  for  self-appraisal  even  if 
that  were  permissible,  and  besides  I  might  not 
stand  as  high  in  my  own  estimation  as  I 
should  like  to  in  yours.  Moreover,  I  may  yet  fall 
from  such  small  grace  as  I  have,  and  Prudence 
says  "Wait."  But  I  have  loved  this  Club  since 
the  day  I  was  overwhelmed  by  the  notice  of  my 

1 56 1 


election  to  membership.  I  have  written  the 
final  memorials  for  many  vanished  friends.  And 
when  my  time  comes  for  such  ministration,  I 
should  be  more  than  pleased  could  I  know  that 
some  kind,  partial  scribe  would  write  after  my  name 
and  dates  what  was  said  years  ago  over  a  wiser 
but  not  more  devoted  man — "He  had  good  friends 
whom  he  loved. "  And  until  then  I  would  ask  of 
you  who  read  these  vagrom  sketches  that  you  be- 
lieve me  to  be, 

Faithfully  yours, 

John  J.  Glessner. 


57 


PRINTED  BY  R.  R.  DONNELLEY 
AND  SONS  COMPANY  AT  THE 
LAKESIDE  PRESS,  CHICAGO,  ILL. 


